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OUTDOORUAE

Thelongroadhome

A hitchhikers journeyrom the UK to the UAE

TRAVEL + ADVENTURE

dash rom their hiding places and disappearthrough a grate beside the tramlines. Thenwe were running and I suddenly ound myselin a dark, dank world along with 40 otherwide-eyed, excited people, all catching up andhaving a good chat. This was ar rom normal.

Avoiding puddles and ollowing the torchbeams, we ventured into the tunnel. Lightswere set up, beds were laid and peoplemingled as their dinner cooked. It was a lightand happy atmosphere down there in theunderworld. As I lay in my sleeping bag thatnight, in a cavernous concrete subway stationunder the streets o Antwerp, I reected on theincredible experiences that come only throughhitchhiking. To be invited into peoples lives,to ride their road or a little while; its always anadventure. I wondered what awaited me onthe road ahead.

I said goodbye to my new riends and wassoon picked up by a German amily in a camp-ervan. That was a ride I have ond memories o playing cards with the kids in the back as the

felds rolled on by, then joining the amily ordinner and being invited to stay or the night.They became my amily.

While in Germany I stayed with some goodriends in Bavaria the most stereotypicallyGerman region you could imagine. At thepub, we would eat sauerkraut and sausageover a great stein o beer, while a man with anaccordion played jovially and everybody sang.Out in the orest and meadows, herds o deersprang about, while chickens ran amok in thenearby armyards. I was impressed to see how

When Ifnished university, Ididnt see mysel settling downwith a stable job and modelamily. Thered be time or thatlater. It was time to explore, tosee the world and its peoplebeore responsibility tightenedits noose. Im not talking gapyear. Im talking gap lie! Societysays thats not realistic, butsociety never really had much

imagination. Funding my waythrough seasonal jobs, I set outto hitchhike around the world.It all started with a journeyrom England back to the UAE homeward bound.

So there I was, standing by the erry terminalin Dover, when suddenly I had a car beside mewith our excited guys telling me to get in. Itwas going to be a lot o un, they warned me.Reerring to themselves as urban explorers,they were o to Belgium or an internationalgathering o such people inside a drain. Apeculiar invitation I most defnitely accepted.

On the erry, we met up with more urbanexplorers. They looked at me with curiosity,like some mythical creature, and I was reerredto only as The Hitchhiker. They were unpeople and I was happy to be part o theiradventure. Cruising to unky trance musicthrough France and racing the other carswhen the songs got exciting, we were soon inBelgium. The target, as they called it, was anabandoned subway tunnel rom the 80s.

The dark street was quiet except or enthusi-astic whispering. Groups o two or three would

Leaving England

Crazy landscapes in Cappadocia

Words + Photos By: Will Pardoe

Crazy Croatians!

much the culture was a part o their lives.Onwards I went, down through the Austrian

Alps and into Slovenia. The contrast betweenAustria and Slovenia was stark, and I ound itexhilarating. It was a totally oreign place. Mylanguage didnt work, and the writing meantnothing to me. I had let the comort zonebehind. That night I pitched my tent behind atruck stop under a sea o endless stars.

The wayward oracleAt less than 200km wide, I had soon let Slo-venia behind, only to get stuck in a Croatianpetrol station or hours. But every cloud has asilver lining, and it was here that I came acrossJulian, one o the most interesting charactersI have ever met. He had hitchhiked rom Bul-garia to Scotland or a wedding, and was re-turning. Ater a rustrating day, it was good tohave company, and we chatted while trying tocatch a ride. He spoke o how incredible it wasto be able to make these mammoth journeys;all o the people and acts o kindness playinga piece in a vast puzzle. A hundred will passyou by, but the hundred and frst will take youand how he will make all the dierence!

From Julian, I learnt to approach the drivers.

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I guess the British in me had told me not tointrude on them but i you dont ask, theanswer is always no, and that is a philosophythat I have lived by ever since.

The bump in the road

I had soon let Slovenia behind and reachedthe shores o the Mediterranean. I noticed thatthe temperature was rising and the sun wasshining. I could eel the progress; the move-ment and the changes subtle at frst, andthen becoming louder and louder as the milespassed by. Looking out over the sea, I elt thepull o what was beyond. I I ollowed the roadar enough, it would lead me home. A ar anddistant land that called my name!

I continued south through the Balkans, untilthe road ran out in Montenegro and graveltracks took over. Ironically, Montenegro wouldbe the proverbial bump in the road. To

make the ollowing clear, I frst should explainan interesting dynamic that comes rom hitch-hiking: when it is just you and the driver, thecar provides a setting or private conversa-tions with a stranger who will never be seenagain. As a hitchhiker, you are oten a willingear or them to talk to, and the conversationis your payment or the ride. However, in thiscase I was picked up by a guy who abusedthis dynamic. His eelings were repressed inMontenegro and so he was keen to talk to anoutsider, but his lewd comments made me eelvery awkward. I should have drawn the line

and this was a lesson that would prove useullater. There is a limit to the price you pay ora ree ride! We arrived in the capital and I wasglad to see him drive away.

I pitched my tent in a feld and was on theroad again by morning. Ater a while, a guypulled over. Taxi?, he called. No thanks;auto stopping, I replied. Okay, ree, ree!Well, alright then, so I put my bag in the backand got in. He soon started talking prices, de-spite speaking little English. When he realisedI wasnt going to pay him, he stopped thecar under a bridge and turned o the engine.Five euros! he demanded or the 3km wedjust covered. What?! No way. I discussed itwith him or a bit until the tension started to

rise. Quickly, I retrieved my bag rom the backbeore he had a chance to drive o with it. Hegot out o the car and conronted me, takinghold o my bag as collateral. That was crossingthe line.

Stepping into his personal zone, I put a frmhand on his shoulder and pushed down. Letgo o the bag, get back in the car and driveaway, I said into his ace. He was a stockyguy and could have taken me, but my heightintimidated him. He didnt understand mywords, though knew exactly what I meant,and soon he was gone. I was alone under thebridge, eeling violated and ed up. Id hadenough with Montenegro.

It was a long wait in the burning sun, won-dering i he would come back with cronies.

Eventually a car stopped, oering to take meto the bus station or 2 EUR. Anywhere buthere! Soon I was on a bus to Ulcinj, rom whereI could continue into Albania.

Maf aloosAlbania was quite an experience. Orderedchaos. Hitchhiking was not possible pay-ment was expected. When I asked or the busstation, I was directed to a patch o gravelbeside a dirt roundabout. Here, wait. Publictransport was exactly that the public, driving

up and oering a ride or a small ee. With abit o bartering I had a seat to Tirana, the capi-tal, or 2 EUR. We waited hal an hour or thecar to be ull, then set o. I was sitting next toa riendly old man who was intrigued why I wasin Albania, which I explained through my map.Everyone speaks body language, notebookand map. Beside him was a crazy old womanwho amused the men, shouting and causingquite a ruckus. All was going well until theengine coughed and died.

Worth a try...

The mother-lode o bin ood!

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Rumbling through Macedonia in anold communist-built Yugo The open road...

My mum and I with Gurkhan, a riendly Turk

The passengers piled out, standing aroundlooking a bit lost. Until then, I had been lost surrounded by a strange language in a strangeland. But now I had a plan, taking out the

Tirana sign I had drawn earlier. They seemedto sense that this was my area o expertiseand were soon huddled at my side, hoping toget in on the action! Within seconds a BMWpulled over, driven by the chie o police, whoinvited me to get in. I ran back and gave theold man my Tirana sign, which they were glado. Happy or my success, they waved megoodbye.

It all went well until one day in Greece whenI realised I only had 20 EUR let, and another5,000km still to cover! This called or a changeo strategy. Leaving my dignity behind, Ibegan getting my ood rom the supermarketgarbage cans. And let me tell you, that wasthe best ood I had eaten all trip! Anything youcan fnd in a supermarket, you can fnd in thebin and resh, too. Eggs expiring that day,bananas, oranges, mushrooms, lettuce, car-rots, peppers, onions and bread. Having beenliving o dry bread and chocolate spread or aweek, this mother lode made me eel rich. Itsamazing how such a simple thing as an eggcan be so rewarding when you have nothing.

The Middle EastI carried onwards to Turkey. I ound the Turkishto be very riendly and welcoming people.As I wandered around the Blue Mosque oneevening, I was invited to sit and talk by somelocals. I returned to them every night to playbackgammon, drink Turkish coee and smoke

shisha.Chatting with my mum on Facebook oneevening, she mentioned that she had always

wanted to see Istanbul. Amazingly, a ew dayslater I ound mysel showing her around thecity. Together we hitchhiked 750km to Cappa-docia, where ancient cave villages were carved

out o the mountains. She loved the experi-ence and it was good to show her why I do it.She ew home and I continued the un way.

In eastern Turkey I picked up my Iranian visa.Wow, I was so happy to see that in my pass-port! People said I was oolish or visiting Iran,but they had an image warped by the media. Iwanted to see or mysel, having aith that themajority o people in this world are good peo-ple, regardless o the invisible lines that sepa-rate us. As it turned out, Iran was the highlighto the journey. The Turkish were riendly, butthe Iranians were ten-old riendlier!

I made it to Tehran within two days. Iran maybe a very strict country, but the Persians knowhow to party like anybody else! I was stayingwith some amily riends and I accompanied

them to a house party. Behind closed doors,the hijabs came o, the home-brewed drinkswere brought out, and the dancing took over.Towards the end o the night, we sat down ora meal o kebab, mezzeh and salads. It was a

great evening, and I was grateul to be able toexperience the real Iran. Beneath the culture,were all the same.

As I journeyed closer to home, things weregetting more amiliar; the music, the call toprayer, the humidity. When I reached the portin Bandar Abbas, I tuned my radio to 104.4,and the aint sound o Wild Ones crackled

across the gul. Dubai was so close I couldhear it! I thought o the people driving downBeach Road listening to the song, and whatthey would be seeing.

I tried to get a ride aboard a dhow, butsecurity stopped me in my tracks. Instead, Itraded my passport or a erry ticket (which Ibought back rom the captain upon ar-rival!). Ater sailing or thirteen hours, Sharjahemerged through the early morning haze. Itwasnt a pretty sight, but my it was beautiul!I caught a ride straight into Dubai with a mannamed Khalid, sporting the clich aviators,trimmed beard and immaculate kandura theperect ride to cap o the journey. It was anawesome eeling to drive down Shiekh Zayed

Road, the amiliar buildings towering over us.Id made it! Ater an incredible two months,through 104 rides, I was home.

Party time in TehranMy hosts rom Tehran - an awesome amily

Khalid, who dropped me right at my ront door!

Joining a amily or lunch in their armstead,somewhere in Macedonia